The Time Shall Come
by Linen Tartaruga
Summary: There are many things in my life which I regret, but the first and foremost is having never said goodbye.


**Title: The Time Shall Come**

**Summary: **There are many things in my life which I regret, but the first and foremost is having never said goodbye.

**Disclaimer:** If I owned FMA then I wouldn't be poor and this wouldn't be fanfic.

**Rating:** G

**Warnings:** Vague spoilers for the series and the movie; reference to past yaoi.

**Notes:** Man, it's been a while since I've written anything. Hopefully this will be the start of me jumping back into things since I know people are getting impatient with me. This one . . . was actually inspired by the song "10,000 Miles" by Mary Chapin Carpenter from the movie "Fly Away Home."

* * *

There are many things in my life which I regret. It does me no good, that regret, because it will never change what I've done; or haven't done, as the case may be. I say "many things" because leaving behind even one regret is a hard thing to do, and I have tried very hard to make certain not to add any more to my list. There are a variety of things on this list, but the first and foremost is having never said goodbye.

I suppose that, in my mind, saying that one word would have made my leaving so much more real, that I would truly have to face the fact that I could never return and see them again -- that they would realize it too -- and none of us would be able to let go. So I didn't say it, I just smiled my smile and I turned my back on what had once been my life and the people in it that I had loved the most. It was the hardest thing that I had ever done, but I don't regret it -- it had been necessary -- I only regret not having said goodbye when I did.

Life began anew for me after that -- for us -- and as we traveled through our new lives we came upon people that we had thought we'd once known, only to be reminded quite painfully that these were merely mirror images of our friends, our family, our lovers. My lover.

The one man that I had loved as fiercely and passionately as my brother.

The one man that could protect me even as he was pushing me out of my nest to fly on my own.

The one man that could infuriate and charm within seconds and leave you cursing his name and begging for more by the end of a single night.

He had been the most desired man in whatever town he stayed in and I was the one that would share his bed more than once. Ours wasn't the casual detachment of those one night stands of his; yet it wasn't exactly the romantic, love-struck story of some campy romance novel, either. What we had . . . was so much more than that. What we had was a mutual attraction. What we had was a similar burden to bear. What we had was a mutual need to express that attraction and escape those burdens even for just a little while. What we had was a mutual respect for those burdens and the possible costs of them.

Perhaps that was why I never regretted leaving the first time; why I'd rarely thought upon the fact that I hadn't been given the chance to say goodbye. I'd always known that I would return someday, so there was no need for goodbye, but he'd known as well as I did what the cost was going to be.

After our second parting -- the one with the missing farewells -- I'd known that I would never see that man again. And I didn't. What I saw -- who I saw -- was a mirror image of him; a man that hadn't been pushed over the edge of his breaking point, that wasn't haunted by the ghosts of the people he'd killed, that could smile without trying to impress or intimidate or cover up.

I am ashamed to say that I fell almost immediately. I'd thought that I'd found a more innocent man, a purer man that was truly happy with his life and that didn't have to put up with the nightmares of his own sordid past. What I found was a man that enjoyed his life but had no passion for it; the flame that had attracted me like a lame moth limping towards it just wasn't there and, soon, neither was I. He'd understood, somehow, just like a part of me had expected him to, but saying goodbye to him had never been able to make up for that most important of regrets.

As the years have drifted by, I've managed to gain a few more regrets, but still none of them can compare to that one. I never married, though my brother did and he made himself a home and a family. I continued to travel until there was nothing to travel for and I finally settled down near him, content to watch his family grow and age. We would visit each other whenever we could and, when our bodies finally couldn't take the strain as much, he would send his great-grandchildren to visit. Seeing them, though, is almost painful for the memories they bring back with their faces so similar to their great-grandparents' and, though his face isn't among them, I can't help but wonder.

Did he ever marry? Or did he remain a bachelor? What rank did he make by the time he finally retired? I wonder if he's even still alive, but one hundred and fourteen years is a length of time that not even this world has been able to achieve. Sometimes I wonder how one hundred years is even possible, but my brother and I are living proof that it is.

One hundred years. It is a very long time to have lived. An impossible time to have lived without any regrets. Despite them, however, or perhaps because of that one, I am ready for it to be done. My purpose has been fulfilled and I am satisfied. Now I am ready, though I am afraid that I won't be able to reconcile even that one regret. Because when my soul finally leaves my body for the last time and I meet his inside the Gate, I won't be saying goodbye for the rest of eternity.

_-End_


End file.
